


proud of your boy

by potahtopotato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Funeral, Gen, Oneshot, Sad, Short, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potahtopotato/pseuds/potahtopotato
Summary: Neville gives a eulogy at his grandmother's funeral, discussing their relationship and the way others may have misconstrued it.





	proud of your boy

"I'd like to start off by thanking everyone for being here today. I know—I know that my grandmother was a hard woman to love, and a harder one to like, and I appreciate you taking the time out of your no-doubt busy lives to come to her funeral. If she could see us all sitting here today, she would probably scoff and tell me to adjust my tie."

Which Neville does, fiddling with the fabric and partly undoing the knot in the process.

"Augusta Longbottom was many things, most of which I am unqualified to discuss. She was a soldier in the fight against Grindelwald, an accomplished Healer, a lawmaker, a politician, a businesswoman. Augusta Longbottom was a mother, a sister, a mentor, a friend. Above all, to me at least, she was my terrifying, authoritarian grandmother."

"Gran was never kind to me. I think you all know this; I was dropped out of a window at the age of eight, and instead of asking whether I was okay, Gran just wondered aloud why she hadn't done it herself, if it had worked so well. Years later, when I wrote owls home from Hogwarts complaining about Draco Malfoy teasing me, she sent back one-line responses and books on useful hexes. At age fifteen, I fought for my life in a battle against trained adults, and as she read the newspaper article about it, Gran's only comment was that I must have improved my wandwork if I came out of the encounter relatively unscathed. Every time I expressed fear of Professor Snape, a man who bullied me to no end in my tender younger days, she wondered aloud what I'd done with my backbone and why the Sorting Hat had put me in Gryffindor if I was to be so cowardly.

"I could go on, but I'm sure you all get the idea: Augusta Longbottom did not fit the image of a benevolent old grandmum who feeds you biscuits and says things like 'dearie me.' In fact, I'm sure she never used the word "dear" once in her life, and anyone who accused her of such a thing would probably be treated to a few choice words.

"People have asked me over and over again how I survived it, how I could stand her constant, unending disappointment in me. I want to make clear today something should have been in no doubt in the first place: Gran loved me with all of her heart."

Neville's voice breaks on the last word; he uses a handkerchief to wipe his eyes before continuing.

"Gran used to tell me how when the how when the war started, my mum and dad were the first ones to join the resistance. Alice was amazing at Transfiguration, and Frank's curses were legendary for their strength and aim. They were the everything a Gryffindor should be: popular, confident, righteous."

When Neville laughs, it's with more than a little bitterness.

"Imagine her surprise when I came along.

"I was small and chubby and nervous. I tripped over my own feet, I could be trusted to lose an object within minutes of receiving it. I had no friends, and I didn't know how to make any.

"But if anyone sitting here thinks for one second that Augusta Longbottom mistreated or abused me, or that she wasn't proud of me, I can't imagine anyone being more wrong.

"There are a million memories, a million moments that I look back on and wonder how I possibly could have thought that she didn't care. One instance, however, sticks out to me in particular, because that was when I think I finally realized what Gran wasn't telling me.

"I was eighteen years old, the war was over, and I'd just told her that I didn't want to be an Auror. I told Gran that I, sole heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom, was going to teach Herbology to bratty teenagers, and there was nothing she could do to stop me, because I'd already accepted the position.

"Well, we fought long and hard over that one. I won't lie; some of the things we said to each other still make me wince. But when it was all over, when she'd threatened me with disownment and I said that'd be fine by me—then Gran gave a little sniff, and shrugged, and I wish I could say I've never forgotten what she told me, but I forgot about five minutes after the fact—" this gets an appreciative laugh from the audience "—so I'll just paraphrase.

"She said something along the lines of,"—here Neville adopts a posh accent—"'hmph, I guess you are a fighter after all. I suppose it doesn't really come out to much in the end what you spend the rest of your days doing, as long as you do right in the end."

Neville swallows, with some visible difficulty.

"Gran did what was right. She was stubborn and impatient, unwilling to admit her mistakes, and no one could ever accuse her of spoiling me. But I think—well, I might be biased, but I think that she did alright by me in the end."

* * *

Later, overheard at a whispered volume as Neville stands over her casket:

"I love you, Gran. Thank you for never giving up on me."


End file.
